A Future Awry
by DreamFlight
Summary: Buffy's a vampire. Life in Hollywood. A world gone vamp-crazy. A view at a not-so-impossible post-NFA world. Spuffy, vampireBuffy.
1. Electric Demons in Love

**A Future Awry**

Hey everyone. This one's a little experimental. I'm trying for slightly "different" tone. It's based on a challenge given to me by BellaVision and takes place post-NFA, blatantly ignores most of the comics, and requires a small leap of faith. I'm basing the chapters on songs I've been listening too, so yeah, it's going to be a bit different. Hope you enjoy the craziness that will be this tale.

Challenge: Buffy is a Vampire and her game face will be from Season 1 in the episode "Nightmares." In this challenge, Buffy's going to get a magic and an odd looking stone that transforms her into a vampire's body and the stone will be smashed by the demon so that her magical turning will be permanent. When she begins to drink blood packages, her new change will be even more permanent. (Post-NFA).

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Spike or any part of what has come to be known as the Whedon-verse. Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own it. No one said I can't play with it though.

The chapter title "Electric Demons in Love" is borrowed from the Electric Six song by the same name. The story behind the "electric demon" – kinda borrowed from the song too… go ahead and listen to it. It's a fun one.

**Chapter One: Electric Demons in Love**

It didn't look like the sort of thing that would change a life. The girl in question was strolling around a park after nightfall when she found it. Stubbed the toe of her black leather boot against it really. Ostensibly she was patrolling, though the word had lost some of its former connotations. There were hundreds of Slayers out there, perhaps thousands, and she was just one. She wasn't even stationed at a Hellmouth. This was her retirement: a small town far from where she had seen her greatest moments (and her worst, though she'll never tell – not anymore). In fact, Buffy Summers hadn't seen a demon in months. They didn't have a whole lot of them in small mountain towns, apparently.

So when she stubbed her toe against the rock, no larger than the size of her fist, she didn't think twice about picking it up. In fact, she'd had every intention of throwing it away, clearing the path so no early morning jogger would trip over it. "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," one could hear her murmur under her breath, "Saving the world from sprained ankles, one rock at a time." She was twenty-five. One couldn't blame her for feeling restless and useless. Similar-aged people in the town were working on their careers and their families (a solid half were married or engaged). She didn't even have the excuse that she was saving the world anymore.

The rock held her attention for a brief moment as she prepared herself to use her wasted Slayer strength to hurl the defenseless rock into the dense woods. It sparkled. Last time she checked, dull looking black rocks did not sparkle. In fact, being dull, sparkling was not something they should be capable of. Especially not when it continued to do it. And the sparkles? Not so much sparkles as… electric currents running over the rock?

"Okay…. So this is Giles-worthy," the young woman muttered under her breath, tossing the rock in the air and catching it, a small smile playing on her lips. "Guess things are finally going to get interesting in this little town."

At first, the rock did nothing but sit on her dresser sparkling and sparking, electric currents traveling over its surface every now and then. It was a little mesmerizing, if Buffy was to be honest with herself, and it was kinda nice to have something supernatural in her life again. "Can't hurt to hold onto it for a few days, right?" She asked the worn-out stuffed pig that sat on a shelf above her bed. "I mean, Giles doesn't need to know right away, right?"

The pig stared at her through worn glassy eyes. It didn't give her an audible answer, but the Slayer seemed content with whatever she had seen in its stillness.

The days went by, a monotony of waking whenever the urge to leave the bed struck, eating whatever hadn't gone bad in the refrigerator, lounging around the Watcher-approved-and-payed-for apartment, and the waiting, waiting for the sun to go down. Without her sister (who had gotten into Oxford, who would've thought after the disaster that had been her early high school years?), she was becoming a creature of the night. The only one in her town.

The rock sat on her dresser. It waited. It was patient. It's owner would find it eventually. It had faith.

Buffy was rubbing her hair dry with a towel the day it all changed. Her doorbell was ringing (it never rang) and she was hustling towards it, dodging the coffee table with a fluid ease. "Uh, hi! Can I help you?" She asked brightly as she opened the door, finding herself face to face with a woman in a long trench coat and a fedora. And rubber boots. The strangeness of it wasn't so strange to Buffy. Not after years on the Hellmouth. Though she should have known something odd was happening in her small mountain town.

"I certainly hope so," the woman's voice was strange too. It sounded like the electronically remixed voices of pop singers in techno remixes. Buffy didn't notice. "I lost something a few days ago. It's very important to me. I was hoping you had seen it? Or picked it up? I could feel its power nearby."

"Feel its power?" Buffy echoed, looking stunned, suddenly taking in the yellow eyes that were gazing at her from below the fedora and the dark, dark skin that framed them.

"Yes. It looks a little like a rock. But its electric?"

Obviously, Buffy knew it was the rock. Just as Buffy now knew it was a demon standing on her doorstep. Her Slayer senses were off the charts, as if an electric charge were pouring through her. "Uh, no. Haven't seen anything like it." She said quickly, closing her door rapidly and wondering how on earth one killed an electric demon. Wishing she had called Giles earlier, Buffy moved away from the door. The demon was knocking on her door increasingly rapidly and heavily.

"Please? It's very important to me." The demon was saying, her strange and melodic voice echoing like a bad techno recording. "And it's very powerful." Her voice took on a sad tone, a techno ballad, "My… someone very special gave it to me. Before he died."

Inside, Buffy felt a wave of compassion rise up. She'd lost someone very special too. Not so long ago really. He'd been a demon too. A demon with a soul. She wondered how much it had really mattered, in the end. And for a moment she was tempted to open the door and give the demon the rock. Then she recalled every other powerful magical artifact she had ever known of. No one who wanted them ever had pleasant intentions for their use.

In fact, she couldn't recall a powerful magical artifact that had ever brought happiness to her life. The last one, that had taken the man (or vampire) who she had finally accepted into the tortured spaces of her heart. Taken him and replaced him with dust and a crater. She ran to her bedroom and stared at the rock. Could this too take someone she loved and reduce them to a pile of dust and a crater? It was hardly worth finding out, was it? With thoughts of her lost vampire lover racing through her mind, her heart insistent on the fact she had loved him, even if just for that moment that she too had seen his soul, she grabbed hold of the rock.

An electric shock ran through her. Buffy Summers screamed. Her world went dark.

"Are you alright?" The melodic electronic voice was back, nearer than ever, and Buffy scrambled to her feet, adrenaline running through her veins.

"Get back!" she growled. "Whatever you are, I'm warning you."

The demon backed up, her rubber boots clumping heavily on the floor beneath her feet as a hard crushing sound filled the room. The demon and Buffy both looked to the boots. The demon raised one foot to expose a chalky red powder, crumbled bits of stone clinging to the rubber treads and the cracks in the hardwood floor beneath them. "Oh dear," the demon murmured, anxious electric eyes gazing at Buffy, "I'm guessing you weren't a vampire before you touched the rock just now?"

Buffy stared at the demon for a long moment, "A wha?" Tentative fingers rose to her face, ran across the ridges on her forehead and cheekbones, traveled down the length of her extended canines, and froze as the stillness of an unbeating heart penetrated the young woman's consciousness.

"Umm, you see, it was a changing stone. I wasn't always a demon," the electric demon raised sensitive yellow eyes. "I just fell in love with one." Her voice was sorrowful as she continued, "He got me this changing stone. We thought we could always be together. I… I used it and it was so _good_. We thought we would live forever. Electric demons in love. I didn't care about the evil. We would go dancing. We lit up the place. We… we started a fire. There was a Slayer."

Buffy was emotionless as she watched the demon cry tears that crackled in her bedroom. "And how do I become human again?" she interrupted finally, her voice trembling slightly with a dawning fear.

The demon gave her a watery smile. "The stone changes shape and form when it's used. Electric when I used it. Redder and apparently softer when you used it." She gestured at the chalky red mess beneath her boot. "It's useless now."

Buffy stared at the demon with a growing fury. "You mean I'm stuck as a vampire?" she asked gruffly, her voice sounding strange as she spoke around the fangs that seemed to overfill her mouth.

"Look on the bright side, honey," the demon smiled, "At least you can be with the one you love forever."

"He's dead."

"Oh dear," the electric demon said again, wringing her rubber gloved hands.

It was not the best week in Buffy Summers life.


	2. Don't Trust Me

**A Future Awry**

Hurray BellaVision for inspiring me to write this increasingly odd tale…

In the Buffy Season 8 comics, vampires are revealed to the world via a reality show starring none other than Harmony Kendall. In the world of this story, this reality show exists as well, thus vampires have become accepted members of society, the beautiful and mysterious people who increasingly are filling out the ranks of Hollywood's elite…

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Spike or any part of what has come to be known as the Whedon-verse. Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own it. No one said I can't play with it though.

The chapter title "Don't Trust Me" is borrowed from the 3Oh!3 song by the same name. Yup, crazy dance music for crazy times…

**Chapter Two: Don't Trust Me**

"Welcome to 'Beautiful Lives of Beautiful People', starring me! Sasha!" The dark haired girl posed like a Barbie doll before the television cameras, glamour and youth personified. "Today is super-exciting! We're welcoming everyone's favourite vampire, Harmony Kendall! C'mon everyone! _The_ Harmony Kendall!" The vapid television host motioned with her hands to a non-existent audience to increase their cat-calls and screams and applause (hurray for the technology of added audio).

"Sasha!" the blonde vampire shrieked, running towards the host with air kisses and a smile so huge it could have blown out the camera lights, "It's absolutely fantastic to be here," she waved at the cameras, "Hi everybody! Thank you for loving me!"

"Today, is super exciting because we're going to be entering the realm of the strangest of the vampires," Sasha's olive skin shimmered under the camera lights, her almond-shaped eyes and exaggerated pencil eyebrows widening with fake enthusiasm, "Those who have miraculously earned back their souls." Her voice dropped with mock melodrama. "Stay tuned after commercials!" she hollered as the producer gave a wave to cut the feed for the obligatory commercial break.

"Oh. My. God. Harmony." Sasha began, "You are wearing the cutest outfit ever."

"Sasha," Harmony replied, batting her eyelashes, "You know I can afford the best! We should go shopping later, after the shoot."

"Won't it be a little late?" Sasha replied cluelessly, "I mean the stores close at nine…"

"Not for vampires, sweetie." Harmony replied with a saccharine smile.

"And we're back, girls," the producer called, "in three."

"And we're back, folks," Sasha cried, "And here we are standing outside the door of the well-known Angel Investigations offices. It is here that a brave and reckless pair of souled vampires help the helpless, and for only a small fee!" The host winked at the cameras, "Serving the entire Los Angeles area and much of the California coast!" She turned to the doorway that filled much of the wide hallway the camera crew stood in, "Harmony, would you like to do the honours?"

The blonde vampire trotted up to the doorway, "Here goes," she cried, raising one hand to knock on the heavy wooden door.

"What the bloody hell is going on…" a pale angular face appeared as the door creaked open moments before the blonde's hand rapped on the doorway. "Oh bloody hell," the face blanched further, retreating back into the shadows of the office behind the door, apparently with every intention of slamming the door.

"Blondie Bear!" Harmony shrieked, her high-pitched voice forcing one of the cameramen to juggle his camera as he rubbed an ear to ease the ringing, "Aren't you absolutely _thrilled_ to see me?" The blonde wedged herself into the open doorway, her vampire strength fighting against the angle of the door to keep it open.

"Can't say that's how I'd put it," the British accented words echoed around the door.

"Move the sound booms in closer," the producer hissed in the background, "We need to catch this. Every word this guy says is gold. Gold, do you hear me?" A small platoon of dolly grips and extras nodded in unison.

The camera moved forward to catch the slender form of a black clad vampire leaning casually against an interior wall of the office. He was lighting a cigarette, patiently ignoring the chattering of the two television personalities who had invaded his space. "Might as well come on in then, mate," he gestured to the cameraman nearest the doorway. The cameraman stepped forward and trained the camera to catch the way the tiny orange flame of the lighter illuminated the high cheek bones and stained the bleach blonde hair of his subject with a faint hint of colour.

"Gorgeous," the camera man murmured, too softly for the sound booms to catch, but far louder than necessary for the vampires in the room to hear.

"Ah, thanks," his subject replied awkwardly, "But I… uh… don't… right then," he spun on his heel to disappear further into the rooms of the office suite.

"Hey hey hey! You keep on him!" The producer hollered from the back.

"Angel," the bleach blonde vampire growled under his breath to a taller, broader shadow in the passageway he had disappeared into, "What the hell is a bleedin' camera crew doin' in our office?"

The cameraman crept forward, leaning around a corner to catch the pair of vampires, camera lights flashing their way down the hall to light up the surprised face of none other than Angel, of Angel Investigations. The momentary look of surprise on his face smoothed instantly into that of a cordial businessman. "I told Harmony that she could interview us," he muttered from the side of his mouth, as he waved at the camera, appearing just a little bit lame.

"Without asking me?" the bleach blonde growled.

"We need the publicity," Angel replied, still waving at the camera, his fake smile already drooping, "Desperately."

"Right then," the blonde replied, "Need t' put on a show then, huh?"

"Pretty much," came the terse reply.

The blonde cracked his knuckles. "They ain't seen nothin' yet." He wore a smirk that spoke of almost cruel delight in what was about to come to pass.

Settled into funky plastic chairs, the bleach blonde vampire grinned at the camera as his dark haired compatriot wore a tight, polite smile and watched the two hosts who were currently discussing the benefits of modernizing one's wardrobe versus maintaining a classic style. "Spike," the one named Sasha said finally, turning her attention to the bleach blonde, "We can't help but notice that you have chosen to maintain the so-called "punk" look," air quotes surrounded the words as she hooked her delicate fingers in the air, "Care to enlighten us as to why?"

Spike stared at the woman. "Seriously?" he muttered, a look of confusion misting his features for a moment before he recovered. He leaned back, his self-assured smirk slipping on like a comfortable mask. "Always figured if'n it was good 'nough for Billy Idol, I must've been onto somethin'."

"Ohhhh," Harmony squealed, "Snap!" She high-fived Sasha, "Wonder what Billy Idol's gonna have to say about that one!" She raised her eyebrows dramatically, waggling them at the camera.

The one named Sasha wrinkled her nose in concentration, "Didn't he die in 2010?"

In an apartment several hundred miles away, an electric demon sat on a sofa and stared at a television set (the third she and her likewise immortal roommate had gone through that year alone). "Buffy," came the wavery electronic voice, "I think… I think you've gotta see this." She was risking her roommate's fiery temper, but after nearly eight years of rooming together, she had a fairly decent grasp of just how central the two male vampires occupying their television screen had once been to her life.

Holding a dishtowel, the ex-Chosen One strode into the living room of the apartment she shared with her unlikely best friend (considering how the pair had initially met). She stared at the television for a long moment before the dishtowel slipped from her fingers. "That… that…" her fists flexed, visibly aching to punch in noses (or rather one particular nose).

"Buffy, hun," the electric demon stared at her friend with concern, "You've let the, you know, _gameface_ slide on again."

"I'm going to kill him." Buffy Summers said, her tone flat as she watched her ex-loved-one-slash-pain-in-her-ass laugh with his air-headed ex-ex-girlfriend on her television screen.

"I thought you were over the whole killing demons thing? Remember?" Her roommate implored, "We just got settled here. I really was hoping we could stop moving every year."

Buffy shook her head. "Oh no, he's… he's supposed to be dead already, remember?"

Her roommate shook her head sadly, "Honey, he's a vampire. You guys are known for coming back from the dead. And souled ones? Hey, there's only the three of you in the whole world. The Powers tend to hold onto rarities like you." Rebecca watched her roommate with uncertainty. Her words were obviously not getting through. Buffy Summers (ex-Slayer) was trembling with rage, and the gameface? Really not evaporating. Rebecca sighed, one would think that after almost a decade of life as a vampire that a girl could master the ins and outs of maintaining a non-bumpy visage.


	3. Bite Me

**A Future Awry**

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Spike or any part of what has come to be known as the Whedon-verse. Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own it. No one said I can't play with it though.

The chapter title "Bite Me" and the included lyrics are borrowed from the Electric Six song by the same name. Seriously folks… check it out…

**Chapter Three: Bite Me**

"I don't like this." Angel muttered to his associate as they stepped into the foyer of a large Hollywood mansion.

"Suck it up, mate. You're the one who wanted the coverage," Spike grinned, "'Sides, I can think of worse things than getting invited to a Hollywood party."

"Was always your more your scene than mine," Angel continued, rubbing his nose, "Your's and Drusilla's."

Spike's grin faded slightly, his eyes losing focus as they gazed at something distant and elusive in his mind's eye. "Different times."

"A lot different." Angel agreed, his eyes drawn to the crowd, a mix of humans, vampires, and several of the more humanoid demons, all dancing and drinking, ignoring what had once been a fundamental difference. The one that separated predator from prey.

"Least they're havin' fun," Spike commented, his eyes following Angel's to the crowd, even as one hand snaked out to grab a glass of something off the tray of a passing waiter. "Bloody hell," he sputtered after his first tentative sip, "They're serving human!"

"Fresh A-positive," the waiter nodded stiffly. "I can also offer you B-negative and a slightly older O-positive. I'm not entirely certain I recommend it, however, a few of the," he paused, gazing at the crowd, "wilder types prefer their blood lightly congealed."

The two souled vampires stared at the waiter. The very human waiter. "Really?" Angel squeaked out, his eyes almost comically large, "And you don't see anything wrong with that?"

The waiter gazed at him for a long moment, weighing the vampire against an invisible standard. "Sir, if you insist on being racist I do have the authority to remove you from the premises. The mistress does allow me to make such judgement calls."

Spike snorted, stifling laughter that was refusing to be stifled. He clapped one hand onto Angel's shoulder, laughing harder at the stunned look on Angel's face. "Mate, what can we do?" he snickered, gesturing at the crowd, "Spent all these years savin' them and they're willin' vicitims. We'll be the bad guys if we don't play the part!" He shook his head, spinning about with his arms open wide, "If'n only things had been this way when I'd met Buffy…"

Angel growled softly, under his breath. "Heard you, Peaches," Spike snickered, "Getting' jealous now?"

Angel rolled his eyes, "Nope, just watching you make an idiot of yourself, as usual."

"Hey, hot stuff," a young woman in a barely-there red top and short black miniskirt slided up to the younger vampire, "Wanna dance?" She let one hand drape itself over his shoulder, her blood-red nail polish glittering in the artificial light.

"With you?" Spike ran his tongue over his teeth, an appreciative smirk on his lips, "Think I could manage." He cast one last look over his shoulder at his more solemn partner in crime… crime-fighting… (was there a difference these days?) and watched a small gaggle of giggling girls work their way to his side.

"You're Angel, aren't you?" one began, nibbling on a fingertip as she looked the vampire up and down, "We saw you on tv."

"Yeah, uh," Angel stepped backward, only to find the group of young women stepping closer to him, surrounding him, playing with their hair or fidgeting with the laces of their barely-there tops, "That was me," his voice was unnaturally high-pitched. For once, (and hell may have frozen over just then) Angel wished Spike were still at his side.

_Are you ready for my Sucky-Sucky?  
Are you ready to be set free?  
Are you ready to syphon gasoline?_

There was a band, Spike noticed with only half his brain, as the young woman who had asked him to dance alternated between pulling him toward what had become the dance floor and rubbing up against him. "I saw you on tv," she whispered conspiratorially, "You're a vampire." Her gaze was appreciative.

"That I am, pet," he muttered, though part of himself was listening to the lyrics of the outrageous song blasting through the main hall of the mansion.

_Are you ready for the number 3?  
Are you ready for big, big savings?  
Are you ready for the Master's Hand?  
Are you ready for my Bloody-Bloody?_

"Bloody bloody?" he murmured.

"Oh! This is like, my favourite song!" The girl pulling his arm squealed. "Are you ready to bite me!" She sang, as Spike stared at her in disbelief.

_Are you ready to bite me  
Delight me  
I'll pay handsomely for you to excite me  
Your body is something I might not survive  
So bite me  
Bite me_

The song continued and his dance partner continued singing along. Spike had the oddest feeling, torn between laughter and tears as the world Buffy had fought so hard to defend – the world they both had given their lives for, evaporated in front of him.

_Are you ready for the Devil's Daughter?  
Are you ready for the soylent green?  
Are you ready for unholy water?_

"I can't do this," he said finally, whispered in the ear of his ridiculously sexy dance partner. He strode purposely to Angel's side and dragged him out of the gaggle of giggling twenty-somethings with too much skin showing.

"Are you listening to these lyrics?" he hissed, his gaze focused on the band still playing on the stage, electronic rock music blasting through the hall. "They're… they're _begging_ to be bitten!" He stared at the crowd, "It's a vamp's wet dream."

"Huh?" Angel seemed to still be lost somewhere between the gaggle he'd been surrounded with and where he now stood.

"Peaches, we're leavin' now." Spike headed for the door, only to run into the girl he'd just been dancing with.

"Oh yay! Perfect! Here, this is my friend, Pablo!" Spike blinked as the brilliant flash of a camera blinded him, capturing him on film with the scantily-clad model? Movie star? clinging to his arm.

"Great, thanks, love. Just remembered I left the oven on. Gotta go now."

He missed the pout on the girl's face, and the almost tragic sigh. "It's my party," she whined softly, "And I guess I'll cry if I want to…" She sighed again, "God, that vamp's gorgeous."

* * *

"Okay, this is… this is… Buffy, I just don't have words for this." A successful-looking young woman in a pale pink skirtsuit handed Buffy a copy of a tabloid, a picture of a young bottle-blonde model clinging to the arm of their former hero-vamp. "I mean, seriously. Skankville, USA." She shook her head, "And I used to think he had better taste than that."

"Did he?" Buffy's voice was distant, her eyes trained on the grainy photograph.

"Well, he was in love with you, so you tell me." The woman was looking at her oddly, "Though, I mean, I guess he did have a thing for Skank-silla before you. And then there was Harmony. Huh, guess she actually is his type."

"Not helping, Dawn," Buffy sighed. "For whatever reason, he decided not to tell me he came back. He's working with Angel, and Angel decided not to tell me he came back. And here, almost a decade down the line, it's just not the time to drag it all up, you know?"

The woman didn't look convinced. "Listen, maybe if you were still the Slayer, or even just a normal human, I'd agree. I mean, life is too short to go pining after what might have been." She snatched the tabloid back and settled it onto the rack she had scooped it out of. "It's just that if you have forever to live, there's no possibility you shouldn't explore. You've been a vampire for, like, eight years now. It's time to go do something about it, sister. And there's never been a better time to come out as a vampire than now."

Buffy Summers stared at her sister. "You can't be serious? You want, what? For the greatest Slayer ever to go admit she got made into a vampire?"

Dawn Summers shrugged, "It might save the rest of the Slayers from getting wiped out in the worst PR disaster to ever hit the barely-existent Watcher's Council." She absorbed Buffy's glare. "Yeah, I know, they disowned you, you threw in with the peaceful demons, yada yada yada. If you really don't care, you might as well party too." She carefully selected another tabloid from the rack, tossing it cover-first at her undead sister, "It's what all the souled vampires are doing these days."

Buffy Summers stared down at the picture on the cover. A decidedly antsy-looking Angel stared back at her, surrounded by at least four scantily–clad bimbos. Buffy sighed, "Maybe you're right, Dawn. I mean, no point in hiding if those two aren't, right?"

Dawn only wished she could dismiss the look of tired hopelessness on her sister's face. The same one she had worn for far too long.


	4. Starstrukk

**A Future Awry**

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Spike or any part of what has come to be known as the Whedon-verse. Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own it. No one said I can't play with it though.

The chapter title "Starstrukk" and the included lyrics are borrowed from the 3Oh!3 song by the same name. And yeah, it's supposed to be spelt that way… *shudder *

**Chapter Four: Starstrukk**

"No one is ever going to take us seriously again, you realize?" Angel pawed through the collection of tabloids that currently resided on his desk.

Spike was leaning back in his chair, balanced precariously on its back legs, he stared at the ceiling tiles. "That requires them taking us seriously in the first place, Peaches." He spared his business partner a glance and snorted, "And with your forehead that's just unlikely."

Angel sat down heavily. "Have you wondered," he paused, as if testing the words in his mouth before he said them, "Have you wondered what Buffy must be thinking, seeing these?"

"Don't think she'd ever read this garbage."

Angel stared at the bleach blonde pest he'd come to consider his friend. "They're everywhere. On the racks at the supermarket. Headlines on television…"

Don't get your panties in a bunch," Spike drawled. "'Course I've wondered." There was a long silence. "She doesn't know I'm alive. Any idea how big an ass-kickin' I'm due for?"

Angel didn't reply, his face a stoic mask. "Do you think she got married?" He said finally, his voice soft. "Think she… had kids?"

"And the white picket fence you always dreamed she'd get?" Spike snorted. "No. Girl always liked a little monster in her man. Normal wasn't in the cards for her. Even with us out of the way."

"She might have." Angel sounded defensive now.

"And I bet she'd make a smokin' MILF," Spike continued, rolling his eyes.

"You shouldn't talk about her like that," Angel said quietly.

Spike glared at him, letting all four legs of his chair return to earth with a heavy thud, "Last time we saw her, she was doing her best to shimmy next to the Immortal. Far as I'm concerned, don't matter how we talk about 'er."

Angel was quiet for a long time after that one. "I really hate that guy," he finally muttered, tossing a notebook around the desk. "Why won't the phone _ring_?" he demanded.

Spike shrugged, reaching for the remote to the small television set they'd set up in the office several years back now.

"Miss!" a reporter's voice cried on screen, the picture zooming in and out of focus upon a young woman shopping somewhere in L.A. "What's your opinion on the recent claims about the Slayers and the secretive Watcher's Council?"

Silence permeated the office as the young woman turned to face the camera and smiled, her honey-blonde hair bouncing around as she tossed her head. "Well, I dunno," she drawled, "As a former slayer myself, I'm gonna say that everyone's being a little hard on them. I mean, just a few years ago the majority of vampires and demons were evil killers." She paused, a small laugh on her lips, "If I'd known all we needed to do was give them some public exposure to make them go from killing to coexisting, I'd have done it years ago!"

"Former Slayer?" the reporter mouthed to the cameraman, one eyebrow raised. "Well, back to you, Harmony!"

The picture cut to Harmony Kendall going ballistic behind her entertainment news desk. "That's Buffy!" She cried. "That's… no! Don't let her walk away. That's Buffy! Don't you know what this _means_?"

The picture cut back to the reporter, who was cringing and holding her ear. "Stop yelling!" she shrieked. "Miss! Is your name Buffy?" She cried out to the young woman she had just interviewed.

"Yes," the young woman replied, pausing mid-stride.

"I'm a reporter for E!Talk with Harmony Kendall…"

"Harmony?" Buffy's eyes widened for a moment. "Harmony?" she repeated, a smile breaking across her face as she waved at the camera. "How are you, Harmony? Love your show!"

The picture cut back to the news desk where Harmony was batting her eyelashes. "Hear that? Buffy's a fan!" She stared at the camera for a second, her face going blank. "Oh, you mean I'm on right now?" She tossed her hair. "So stay tuned, folks!" She exclaimed. "Tomorrow night we'll be interviewing Buffy! The ex-Vampire Slayer!"

"She… hasn't aged a day," Angel said finally, as the spunky new Japanese correspondent began to chat with Harmony about the new electronic flip-flop fad filling the streets of Tokyo on the television screen.

"She said former," Spike added, his features dark, "What the hell did she mean by _former_?"

Angel reached numbly for the telephone on their desk. "You know how I told you that I talked to Giles that one time about three years back?"

"The time with the Snub'lack demons in New Mexico," Spike nodded, his gaze still on the television, as if willing the screen to turn back to the long-time object of his affection.

"Remember how I told you he wouldn't even tell me how Buffy was doing? Dodged the question with all his Watcher-isms?" Angel said, rummaging through the drawers of the desk before pulling out a worn-looking address book.

"Givin' 'im a call, are you?"

"Yeah, I think it's about time someone let us in on what's going on."

* * *

Buffy stood in a boutique, her eyes running over the price tags. "Dawn, I can't afford these…" she murmured, her fingers itching to touch, but keeping well away.

"Buffy, please," Dawn rolled her eyes, "_I'm_ buying. I told you that already."

"And you can't afford these either!" Buffy exclaimed, only to find Dawn looking at her with one eyebrow raised.

"Uh yeah, cause lawyers don't make megabucks," she drawled. "Do you have _any _idea how much money some of these demon families _have_? Some of them spent their time making money, getting good at making money, and then making more, rather than trying to bring about the end of the world." She smiled, "And they know how to treat their lawyers _really_ well, too."

Buffy skirted the topic, "I'm still not sure how you ended up a big-shot lawyer."

"Big mouth." Her sister replied, "Or so you always told me." She rummaged through the racks as if she were at a discount clothing store. Pulling one particularly racy little dress from the rack she held it out to Buffy. "Here, go try this one on. Looks like something you would have worn in high school."

Buffy stared at the tiny sheath dress. "Looks more like something Glory the skank-god wore."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "You're a vampire now, dummy, you're allowed to skank it up too now!"

Buffy shrugged, taking the dress and slipping into it in the changing room, while debating eating one of the cake slices that sat in the waiting section of the change area. One of the pluses of being an immortal vampiress? Eat anything you like. It had been Rebecca who had pointed that one out. Along with all the other positive things about being a vampire. Buffy sighed, without Rebecca and Dawn, she would never have made it this long. As it was, every night left her wondering why she didn't just stay up to watch the sunrise. She knew now she had taken it for granted.

"I don't know about this," she said, squirming as she walked out of the change room. Mirrors were a waste of time for her, so final say would be completely in Dawn's hands.

"Oh yeah, that's more like it," Dawn said with a wide smile and a nod, "You know what? Don't even change out of that one. It's what you're wearing to your interview tonight."

Buffy craned her neck to try to glimpse her back. "But I'm not sure it even covers my butt!"

Dawn smiled, "Buffy, the impression you're gonna make? No one's gonna care."

Buffy looked up at her sister, an expression of worry on her face. "I thought I was the demon?" she mused helplessly, taking in the evil grin on her sister's face.

"What?" Dawn smirked, "Aren't we trying to get back at Angel and Spike for years of mental torment and emotional upset?"

Buffy sighed, "And there you go reminding me…" She smiled devilishly, "We getting our hair done next?"

Dawn smiled, "And _there's_ the Buffy I know and love!"

* * *

Buffy walked onto Harmony's set a vision in black and red. "Buffy!" the talk show host cried, "It's actually really great to see you! I was like, all afraid that by now you would be all, you know, old and wrinkled and…" she paused. "Oh. My. God!" She shrieked, "You're a vampire! A vampire! This is so fantastic! _The_ greatest Slayer ever, a vampire! Its like… both sides of the story!"

Buffy smiled patiently. "There's something else you should really know, Harmony," she began, bracing herself for more shrieking, "I still have my soul."

Harmony stared at her for a long moment. "And… and you're letting me break the story?" Tears rose in her eyes as she walked slowly towards Buffy. She wrapped her arms around her in a ridiculously tight hug. "I'm so sorry I was so nasty in high school. Can we be, like, best friends now?"

Buffy gave a tight smile, her arms coming up to gently pat Harmony's back, even as an evil little thought rose up like a snake from the demon she shared her body with. "Only if, you can, you know, help me with something?"

Harmony stepped back, confusion on her face. "Help you with what?"

"You see, someone never told me about his return to the living… and I'm… what's the word? Out for vengeance?"

Harmony nodded slowly, "So like, national television, personal secrets divulged?"

"That'd be perfect," Buffy replied.

Harmony nodded sympathetically. "Kinda hard to get him out of your system, isn't it? I mean, you'd think with the bleach that you'd be able to just walk away."

Buffy smiled at her new best friend. It was amazing what being a vampire did to your standards.


	5. Poker Face

**A Future Awry**

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Spike or any part of what has come to be known as the Whedon-verse. Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own it. No one said I can't play with it though.

The chapter title "Poker Face" is borrowed from the Lady Gaga song by the same name. _The Daily Show with Jon Stewart_ and Jon Stewart belong to… Jon Stewart? I borrow him only.

**Chapter Five: Poker Face**

"Hello, and welcome to _E!Talk Daily_ with me, your host, Harmony Kendall!" Harmony wore an almost plastic smile across her face. "Today we bring you an E!Talk exclusive! Live with Buffy Summers: ex-Slayer, world-saver, and vampire-reformer!" She flashed the camera a wink as the live audience hotted and hollered at Harmony, "That's right, folks. Those of you who remember last week's episode of 'Beautiful Lives of Beautiful People', will remember that there are two vamps out there with souls – both of whom at one time would have _died_ to be by this girl's side. Figuratively, of course."

Harmony spun to face a different camera, "But today, here, breaking news. Turns out those two boys aren't the only vamps with a soul, after all." She smirked at the camera, playing to her live audience, who soaked it up with oohs, ahhs, and catcalls. She winked at the audience, "Today I introduce, the world's third souled vampire."

The camera panned to Buffy, who strode in from the wings of the set, her stride purposeful, a smile on her face as her demon half preened itself under the attention and the continuous put-downs of the two men she supposed she could have called her vampires. She gave a wave to the cheering audience, who seemed to explode with energy. "Bite me!" one guy hollered.

Buffy swallowed a laugh as she settled into a chair opposite Harmony, who had reached out to grasp her hands. "It's so fantastic that you're here tonight," Harmony gushed, "Would you believe," she turned to the audience, "That Buffy and I were in the same graduating class? True story!" She turned back to Buffy, "And I can only imagine the stories you must have. I mean, path from self-righteous Slayer to smokin' hot, can I tell you this? Gorgeous vampire!"

Buffy squeezed Harmony's hands lightly before letting them go, folding her hands in her lap gracefully. "It's been quite a wild ride," she admitted, "It was my job for years to, well, save the world from the forces of evil." A chorus of boos rose up from the audience. Buffy smiled, "Oh no, don't get me wrong, slaying vampires wasn't the part that deserves credit. I mean, hey, here I am!" She waved her hands, putting on the plastic act Dawn had spent the whole morning rehearsing with her. "But no, really, there were some apocalypses, save-the-world-from-annihilation moments."

Harmony shook her head, "You mean we actually owe our lives to you?"

Buffy smiled, "Not just me, Harmony. All the Slayers. Even now they're working to keep the world from ending. Not everyone has good intentions, you know. Not every demon loves the set up we've got going. Some have, "she hesitated, words feeling now-ancient running through her mind, "Some have a vision, a passion for destruction…"

"Oi!" A vampire shouted, only a few miles away. "She stole my words!" Spike stared at the television set, pointing, "Slayer stole my words!"

Angel looked bored. "You're more upset about Buffy borrowing some lame thing you said years ago then about the fact that she's a demon?"

Spike turned to look at Angel. "Well, you put it that way…" he shrugged.

On screen Harmony nodded intently, "So you mean to say that the Slayers that are still out there, are necessary?"

Buffy smiled. "Exactly. Though if they catch wind that I'm their newest spokesperson I think some of them might just keel over in shock."

Harmony looked on sympathetically. "And this is because they deserted you in your time of need? Ex-communicated you from the fold?"

Buffy stared at Harmony for a moment, "Uh, yeah. I was… well, after Sunnydale," she frowned momentarily, "Long story," she added for the audience's benefit, "After Sunnydale, they set me up in a sort of retirement deal. Small town in the Cascades, soothing break, time to deal with the pain. They got several of the younger Slayers to act as decoys, setting them up in more high-profile places. Somewhere in Germany, I think, maybe Rome?"

* * *

Two vampires stared at each other sheepishly in an office. "So, uh, not her then?"

"Looks that way."

"Interesting."

"I take back the MILF comment."

* * *

"One thing led to another and suddenly I was a souled vampire in a small town, just trying to make ends meet." Buffy continued on screen. "I learned a lot in those first few years. Who your real friends are, or you know, aren't. That there's a lot of really great demons out there." She waved at the camera, "Love you, Rebecca! I know you're watching!"

Harmony smiled warmly. "So its just another heartwarming tale of the demon community coming together and welcoming a new member, no matter how torrid her past." She nodded again, "Who's Rebecca?"

Buffy smiled, "Rebecca is my roommate. She's an electric demon. Very rare, very fun-loving, very sweet. She… well, she's saved my unlife." A chorus of awwws rose up from the studio audience, apparently held captive by the tale.

Harmony blinked back tears. "And who'd have thought, folks? An ex-Slayer, rooming with a demon. If that isn't progress…" She wiped a tear from her cheek, "And coming up after the break, more with Buffy!"

* * *

Commercials played without comment in the offices of Angel Investigations. "How'd you think it happened?" one asked the other.

"How the bloody hell am I supposed to know?" The other snapped in reply, "Some bugger got his bloody one good day."

"Wish I'd known she was here the whole time. We could've…"

"Could've what? Helped her learn to be a vampire? Could you have done it?" Fierce eyes challenged sad ones, "Watched her sip up blood through a bloody straw? Kept her from tossing herself in the sunshine?"

"You don't know…"

"Yes, I bloody do." Came the grumbled reply, "Said 'er roommate saved her unlife. Read between the lines, Peaches."

* * *

Silence reigned once more as the screen filled with the forms of two young women who should have looked middle-aged. "So there was this one time," Harmony chattered on, "He had me dress up like you, and I'm all like, hey, I'm up for kinky sex games. Vampire, right? Took me awhile to figure out he was in love with you the whole time." Exaggerated eye roll. "Oh, you mean we're back on air?" Harmony said innocently, batting her eyes at someone off-stage. She smiled at the camera as Buffy stifled giggles, "Sorry folks, we got so caught up reminiscing. Can you believe that we both dated the same guy? True story!"

Buffy smiled at the camera, "And I thought I had better taste than bleach blondes."

Harmony nodded understandingly, "Me too. But I mean, the look is a little timeless. Billy Idol agreed after last week's interview."

The two girls smirked at the audience.

* * *

Back in the offices of Angel Investigations, one vampire fell off his chair laughing. The second stared at the screen, his mouth hanging open. "They're…" Hands flexed into fists. "Not funny, Peaches," a grumbled mutter could be heard below the laughter, "They'll be on about you next."

* * *

Days passed by in blurs; entirely eclipsed by the nights, as Buffy had never let them in the eight years she had been a vampire. Holding a strange silent vigil by the curtained windows as the sun faded from the sky had been her daily exercise in self-loathing and self-pity before she went into the night and challenged the helplessness of her situation. Suddenly it was lost, her time given over to Harmony and the red carpet. Apparently a vamped Slayer was a Slayer the people could trust, and the only Slayer who's story they wanted to hear. And everyone wanted to hear it.

Cheers echoed in Buffy's ears as she waited for her cue backstage. "Welcome to the _Daily Show_!" A familiar voice called out, "My name is Jon Stewart! We've got a great show for you tonight! Buffy Summers – one time Slayer, now vampire."

Buffy blinked slowly. She was being interviewed on the _Daily Show_. These things just didn't happen to her. Apocalypse, check. Angry demons, check. World fame and interviews with late night talk show hosts, check? The world was off-balance. Buffy was half tempted to bolt out of the plush waiting room with its large flat-screen television showing her the live feed. Harmony was hosting her a party after the show. With champagne and fresh blood on tap. Human blood, of course. Celebrities didn't drink pig's blood.

Buffy had never not drunk pig's blood. Except that one Thanksgiving when she'd tried turkey…

"Miss Summers?" a pale-looking young man prompted her, a headset on his head. "You're on next." He ushered her silently towards the door that led on stage. Buffy swallowed hard.

"My guest tonight," Buffy heard, "is Hollywood's new "it" girl. The darling vampire with, we hope, the facts. Please welcome, Buffy Summers."

Buffy strode across the stage as if she were walking on clouds, her high-heeled boots clicking softly on the set's material. She lifted her eyes to take in the crowd, the camera catching her gaze. She looked calm, self-assured, and radiant in that dark, pale way that only vampires could pull off. "Hello," she said softly, fluttering her eyelashes at Jon Stewart, "It's really such a pleasure to be here."

"The pleasure is all mine," Jon Stewart replied, playing up his classic "flirt" act, as he reached for her hand and mimed kissing the back of it. "Really, they warned me vampires were beautiful, but…"

Buffy dipped her head slightly, letting a carefully coiffed curl slip in front of her face. "It's really just part of the whole package," she replied shyly, batting her eyes at the camera, exactly how Dawn and Harmony had instructed her to.

"So," he fixed his gaze on her, "Let me get this straight. First you were a vampire slayer, and now, you are a vampire." He waved an open hand in her direction.

"That's exactly it," Buffy murmured with a nod, "One day I'm saving the world from evil, and the next, I'm having to redefine evil." The crowd cheered.

Jon nodded, "And this happened… how? I mean, I get that there's usually biting, and blood…"

Buffy laughed, a soft twinkly thing Harmony had forced her to practice specifically for this interview. "Actually, it was a bit different for me."

"Different?" His voice raised in mild disbelief. "I thought it was one of those have-to-do-it-exactly-right-things or you ended up," his voice dropped to an anxious whisper, "you know, dead."

Buffy smiled, a graceful finger tapping her nose in amusement, "Usually that's how it goes. Me? I stumbled across this magical artifact and poof! Vampire Buffy."

"And this was a bit of an adjustment for you?" He prompted, his aging face still warm and smiling.

"Uh, yeah, I would say so," Buffy agreed. "You know, go from the slayer to the… well, if you ask my one-time friends and associates, slayee."

"Ouch, that had to hurt."

Buffy's smile drooped for a brief moment, her eyes adopting a soft shine that even the cameras almost missed, "You have no idea."

His leathery hand wrapped around hers gently, a gesture of comfort made obvious for the audiences. "So, what is life after Slaying?"

Buffy smirked. "More slaying." The crowd stilled into silence as Buffy raised a single finger, leaning conspiratorially towards Jon. "My friend Rebecca and I run a small agency where peaceful demons can go for help." She smiled brightly at the camera, "When the world is ready to attack without question, B and R Securities has your back. Or backs, whatever the case may be." A few slightly less-human members of the audience cheered wildly.

Sitting there, in that simple black chair, Buffy suddenly felt something she hadn't felt for a very, very long time. It filled her with a slow warm that spread through her unbeating heart. A feeling so strange that at first she couldn't think of the word. And then it hit. Acceptance.

* * *

In an office on the other side of the country from where the _Daily Show_ was filmed, an irate vampire glared daggers at a television screen.

"If it upsets you that much, you could just turn it off," Angel offered, as he paused for a moment in his path through the room.

"How?" Spike growled. "She's just loving this." He stared at the older vampire, "How is it not driving you crazy?"

"Well," Angel sighed thoughtfully, "I guess I just accepted that I lost my say in Buffy's life a long time ago. Back around the time when she decided I wasn't the champion she wanted or needed." He stared at the bleached back of Spike's head meaningfully, shaking his head when the younger vampire failed to catch on.

"So its fine for her to flirt with Jon Bloody Stewart on national telly?" Spike snarled.

"If her publicity bugs you so much…"

"And every chance she gets she's rubbing my nose in it, though…"

"I can't believe I'm about to suggest this," Angel pinched the bridge of his nose, "But if you're so angry, why don't you just fight fire with fire?" He shook his head with disgust, "I can't believe I'm suggesting something so juvenile..." he trailed off.

"And how the hell do I do that?" Spike spat back, his eyes glowing yellow as they finally turned to demand an answer out of his business partner.

Angel stared at him. "Have you been completely ignoring the mail?" He picked up several letters and hastily-jotted down memos that littered the desk he stood behind and handed them to Spike. "Everyone wants to interview you."

Spike stared at the mail in his hand, various magazine titles glaring up at him in all their shiny venomous glory. "And you don't want a piece of this?" He asked, his voice losing its edge as he stared in the confusion that preluded some of his worse plans.

"I'm participating in a round-table discussion on the value and purpose of the soul on Discovery Channel," Angel began.

Spike snorted, "Figures."


	6. Please Don't Leave Me

**A Future Awry**

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Spike or any part of what has come to be known as the Whedon-verse. Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own it. No one said I can't play with it though.

The chapter title "Please Don't Leave Me" and its included lyrics are borrowed from the song by Pink by the same name.

**Chapter Six: Please Don't Leave Me**

Buffy sat at a breakfast nook in someone's house nursing a hangover. The kind she wasn't supposed to get, being a vampire and all. She stared dubiously at the crystal goblet that sat in front of her, its crimson contents beckoning her. A pale hand reached out and wrapped itself around the crystal stem, dragging the glass towards her. It was human. She could tell by the smell; by the way it made her fangs itch and her mouth water. She closed her eyes and tossed back the contents of the glass. Five weeks ago she would have refused to let human blood pass through her lips. Five weeks had never felt like such a long time.

"Buffy!" A shrill voice cried behind her, enough to set off another headache, except that the blood was already coursing through her system, making her feel… unbelievable. Which was why she kept drinking the stuff. Then enough champagne to make her forget that she was becoming everything she'd once hated. A vampire, drinking human blood, feeding from a willing victim. Ah yes, that was why she had a hangover. For a vampire, drinking enough that you forget your first live feed is… well, nearly impossible. Buffy had managed. For a few hours.

"Buffy! Aren't you going to bed?"

"I've already been asleep."

She could hear whoever was behind her, Tasha, or Tina, or something-with-a-t, frowning behind her. "Vampires are supposed to sleep all day. Not just until," a pause, probably checking the time, "9 am. What did you get? Like two hours?"

"Three." Buffy played the with stem of the blood-stained glass. "But I feel fine now."

"Uh huh. Well, fine, have it your way." A second pause. "By the way, Luke is looking for you. Said to tell you he had a great time the other night. Was wondering why he didn't see you around last night."

Buffy sat stock still as her host left the room before she let her head collapse into her hands. Luke. Dinner Luke. As in, was dinner, Luke. She felt nauseous. She pawed her way through the stack of glossy fashion magazines and gossip rags that littered the table. She let her hand settle on this month's copy of _People_. Time to see what all her new "friends" were up to. It wasn't that she didn't want to go home. To see Rebecca. To go back to their company. It was just that… for the first time in a long time she had felt accepted. Not since her pre-Slayer days had she felt this way. Part of the cool crowd, glamorous and wanted and loved. And the hot guys drooling all over her? That had been nice. And then Luke. And then… but that had ended badly, hadn't it? Neck meet fangs. Fangs meet neck.

Buffy shivered. It wasn't even as if she had attacked him. He'd asked her to do it. His earnest eyes and Southern drawl drawing her in, talking her into exploring all that she was. How was he supposed to know she was going to hate herself for it later? Hate that she was always, ever after, going to want it again, even as the thought made her cringe, made her feel sick, made her feel like she had finally hit bottom. Made her feel like Giles hadn't been wrong… she swallowed the lump in her throat.

* * *

"_Buffy, you need to drink." Rebecca's voice was soft, pleading. "Please?"_

"_I'm a monster. And I'm not drinking that." She sat curled into a ball on her sofa. "Why do you even care? It's not like I'm your problem."_

"_But you kinda are, sweetie." The demon set the mug down on the coffee table and sat down on the couch, just far enough that the sparks she constantly shed wouldn't reach Buffy's cool skin. "See, I lost the stone. And I'm the reason you rushed off to grab it, however inadvertently. And…" the demon fell silent._

"_And?" Buffy prompted._

"_And in some ways you remind me of me." Rebecca admitted. "You're a demon, but not completely. You lost the one you loved enough to cause the change. You… you don't have anyone else."_

_Buffy frowned petulantly, "I do have someone else. I have multiple someones. I'm just… not ready to tell them about this yet."_

_Rebecca smiled sadly at her, sparks flying from the corners of her dark blue-tinted lips. "Whatever you say, sweetie. But please, drink. If you don't… you'll waste away long before you figure out how to tell them anything."_

_Buffy grudgingly reached for the mug, just as her doorbell rang. Buffy's gaze whipped to the front door, just a few feet form where she sat. "Who… why…" she sputtered._

"_Should I…" the demon trailed off as Buffy stood slowly, drawn towards the door as if by magic. _

"_Yeah." Buffy said softly. "It's my Watcher."_

"_I'll be in the spare room, sweetie." Rebecca murmured as she closed the door to the spare bedroom behind her._

"_Giles?" She whispered, as she opened her front door. "What brings you all the way out here?" She was aiming for bright and chipper, but her voice instead came out soft and beseeching._

"_Buffy!" he announced, wrapping his arms around her in a hug that Buffy could only return awkwardly, "I realized it has been several months since any of us last checked in and I wanted to see if you had had about enough of the calm life for a time." He paused as he pulled away, "My goodness, Buffy, you are looking pale. Are you getting out enough?"_

_Buffy smiled helplessly. "That's something I kinda need to talk to you about, Giles," she trailed off as he strode into the apartment, setting down a suitcase just inches from where her untouched mug sat on the coffee table._

"_Oh, are you having some tea?" he began, his eyes falling on the mug, his voice dropping as he took in the colour of its contents. "Buffy," he began slowly, "Why is there a mug of blood on your table?"_

"_Well that's what I need to…" Buffy was cut off by a sudden crash in the guest room._

_Giles, ever alert, started towards the guest room door. "Buffy, you needn't hide…" he opened the door. And gasped. Rebecca stared back at him with her flashing yellow eyes, sparks jumping from her black skin. She gave him a small wave. "Buffy!" Giles exclaimed, "You have an intruder!" Seemingly out of nowhere, he pulled out a dagger and seemed about to rush the demon, when Buffy felt herself leap into action, her reflexes doubly quick with her vampiric boost._

"_No!" She cried, landing in a crouch between Rebecca and her Watcher. She stared up at him, a growl on her lips, even as she realized her failure (not so unusual) to keep her composure. _

"_Buffy," his gasp was heart-wrenching. And Buffy realized in an instant just how things looked. Her fangs pricked at her lower lips and she could feel the ridges in her forehead. And she was defending a demon. _

_She straightened sheepishly, "Sorry… I… still working on the controlling… thing…" she gazed at Giles, tears in her eyes even as she failed to shake her game face._

"_Oh Buffy," his eyes were glistening, as he clasped his hands before him, his face a portrait of heartbreak. "I've failed you," he whispered. _

"_No, no," Buffy hurried to add, "It's really not like that. It's not even so bad…" She struggled so hard to get out the words; he needed to know she had a soul. This was important. But when he looked at her like that… like his world had ended…_

_He opened his arms and Buffy immediately hugged him tightly. "Please, Giles, it's not…"_

"_I'm so sorry, Buffy," he murmured into her shoulder. _

_Suddenly it was Rebecca's voice, a soft electronica cry, that accompanied widened eyes. "No!" She reached out to push Buffy out of the way and instead tackled Giles head on, her body almost invisible behind the surge of electricity that radiated outwards, as Buffy crumpled to the floor gasping._

"_Giles," Buffy whispered hoarsely, even as her hands fluttered around her chest. "Is he ok?" She asked Rebecca, who stared between the still figure of the man and the collapsed and bleeding figure of her adopted project. _

"_He staked you." The statement was almost lyrical when spoken by her._

"_He tried," Buffy nodded, a sob wracking her body, "Please tell me he's ok."_

"_He's out," Rebecca observed, "But he's breathing. Just an electric shock." She shook her head with frightened awe. "And you…"_

"_Just help me get this out," the blonde murmured as she stood slowly and stumbled to Rebecca's side. "He missed my heart by a mile. He was crying… his hand shook…" she trailed off, her eyes focused on his still form. "We're going to have to leave before he wakes up."

* * *

_

He had never followed her. She had never heard from Willow or Xander. Or any of the Potentials-turned-Slayers she had trained. She had called Slayer HQ and Faith had answered. Her usual snark losing its venom and vigour as soon as she heard Buffy's voice on the line. "_Don't bother, B," Her voice was hard, but emptier than Buffy remembered, as if her heart wasn't in this attack, "Giles told us how you attacked him. Just stick with the invisibility and we won't come after you." The dial tone summed up the message. _Only Dawn had never abandoned her.

No one had ever even tried to hear her end of the story. No one had stopped by. She couldn't blame them. She would have done the same. She grabbed the magazine and wandered through the mansion she was staying at this weekend. Settling into a cozy leather armchair, music softly wafting in on the air, Buffy let the magazine flop open where it would.

_I don't know if I can yell any louder  
How many time I've kicked you outta here?  
Or said something insulting?_

Listlessly she flipped through pages outlining this month's hot colour and the latest Hollywood flirtation. She hummed along to the radio, absentmindedly.

_I can be so mean when I wanna be  
I am capable of really anything  
I can cut you into pieces  
But my heart is broken  
_

"I'm so bloody bored," she murmured between verses, ignoring her slip. She tried so hard, especially these days, not to think of him; not to use his words. Knowing that she'd been in the limelight for weeks, and he'd never tried to find her. Even though she obviously knew he was alive now. It made her itch to punch his nose. He deserved it this time.

_How did I become so obnoxious?  
What is it with you that makes me act like this?  
I've never been this nasty  
_

She was just about ready to toss the magazine away, her frustration rising as she struggled to ignore the fact that she was still upset about Spike, even after all these years. And then she turned the page. And he was staring up at her. And it felt like a punch to her stomach. His perfect smirk, the tiny scar cutting across his eyebrow, the cheekbones that looked sharpest in the shadows.

_  
Can't you tell that this is all just a contest?  
The one that wins will be the one that hits the hardest  
But baby I don't mean it  
I mean it, I promise  
_

Without intention, her fingers were tracing his features. Had it really been nearly a decade since she had seen his face? Touched it? All because he couldn't be bothered to let her know that he was alive… The words of the song on the radio washed over her as the person listening to it in the other room turned the volume up.

_  
I forgot to say out loud how beautiful you really are to me  
I cannot be without, you're my perfect little punching bag  
And I need you, I'm sorry  
_

"Oh god," Buffy whispered softly, her head falling into her hands as she curled into a tightened ball. "What did I do?" Images of every interview, every photograph, every man she'd smiled at, every image captured on film. She'd gone and repeated the past. By all appearances, she didn't need him. Why would he have come to find her? He probably hated her.

And his picture stared up at her, his smirk immortalized on film, sold on newsstands. Property of anyone in the USA. And suddenly the ache inside of her reached its crescendo and the sobs ripped their way straight from her soul. He was the one she had needed, wanted, missed, all these years. Why had she wanted revenge when she saw him? Why not just go to him and confront him? And now… now she was more broken then she ever had been alive. What was there even left of her to want at this point? She stifled a sob as the song came to its end.

_  
Baby, please, please don't leave me _


	7. Your ExLover Is Dead

**A Future Awry**

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Spike or any part of what has come to be known as the Whedon-verse. Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own it. No one said I can't play with it though.

The chapter title "Your Ex-Lover Is Dead" and any included lyrics are borrowed from the song by Stars by the same name.

**Chapter Seven: Your Ex-Lover Is Dead**

"Buffy!" The young man stood on a well-manicured lawn that stretched nearly a third of a mile down to the gates in front of the mansion. "Buffy, please! Did I do something wrong?" He was a sad sight, calling up to a window that was only slightly ajar, his forehead perspiring slightly above his nervous eyes.

"Luke," a bored voice called from the front doors of the mansion, just a few tens of feet away, "She's gone. Give it a rest."

"Gone?" the young man parroted.

"Yeah, gone." The door opened a little more, revealing a red haired woman who clung to the shadow provided by the door, even as she gazed warily at the setting sun. "She left early this afternoon."

The man stared at the woman for a long moment. "Trish, now I know you're kidding me. Left in the afternoon?" He shook his head in disbelief.

The woman sighed, idly picking at a red-painted fingernail. "She did. Pulled this ridiculous stunt with a blanket, borrowed Nancy's car." The woman sniffed, "Nance won't be happy when she sees what she did with the windows."

"Windows?" the man murmured helplessly.

"Yeah, she covered in them in like, black paint or grease, or something. I'd call it clever if it weren't so gross and stupid. I mean, really, who'd actually want to leave Hollywood?"

"She left Hollywood?" The faint sheen of perspiration on the young man's forehead glimmered in the last fading rays of sunlight. "Did she say when she's coming back?"

"Never," the woman named Trisha replied nonchalantly. "Though she was probably be melodramatic. Had a private pity party earlier today."

"Jeez, Trish, what if she's actually upset about something?" the man seemed worried.

"Isn't my problem, is it? Told her to get some more sleep. She wouldn't listen. Said she needed to get back to her 'real life'. Guess that means she's back on the rampage."

"Rampage?" Watery brown eyes gazed reproachfully at the redhead. "She's done with the whole Slayer thing, remember?"

"Yeah, well, she never said she was done with the whole private security thing, did she?

The man stood still for a long moment. "You mean she's really gone?" His expression turned into something more commonly seen on puppy dogs. "She didn't even say goodbye."

The redhead stared at the man on the front lawn with disinterest, "What? Did you think you meant something to her just cause she bit you? God, Luke, you really are a moron. All that really made you was dinner." She flashed him a wicked smile. "Though if you really want to feel special, you were her first victim."

Somewhere a few yards behind the pair, a crash sounded. Two sets of eyes flew to a black heap that had suddenly appeared beneath the overhanging branches of a large oak. "Bloody hell," a voice muttered, as the heap picked itself up with surprisingly feline grace. Platinum blonde hair shone in the pale blue of the deepening twilight. "Girl has a bite to eat and she pulls a runner. Should have bloody expected it," the figure muttered darkly. In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

"Who the hell was that?"

Trisha stood frozen, her painted lips fallen open in astonishment, having heard every word the other vampire had said. "That was… that was _Spike_."

Luke shifted his feet, suddenly finding the grass beneath his feet fiercely interesting, "You mean, like, Spike-the-vampire-who-used-to-date-Buffy Spike?"

"No, he lets numerous other vampires use his name," the redhead rolled her eyes, "Of course that Spike! There aren't any others!"

"And he was watching Buffy's window?" the young man continued glumly.

"Looks like," Trisha nodded, her eyes still peering into the darkness. "Wonder how long that's been going on…"

"I'm not going to get her back, am I?" Luke's voice interrupted.

Trisha shrugged, "That's what happens when your lover is dead, hun."

* * *

Buffy sighed, letting her tired body slump against the solid wood door behind her. She opened her eyes and let her gaze flit lightly over the contents of the apartment she hadn't seen for several months. It was a mess, as usual. For all of Rebecca's mothering instincts, she was no housekeeper, and clearly she had let some things slip a little in her roommate's absence. That said, it was comforting to see the silly sushi throw Rebecca had got her last Christmas draped over the couch, the photograph of her and Dawn at a New Year's party several years back, and all the other details that could make a place feel like a home, even when your heart wasn't really there.

"Buffy?" Rebecca's melodic voice echoed, as the demon popped her head out of the kitchen. "Oh my god, Buffy! I have missed you!" The demon rushed over and swept Buffy into a hug that set her heart beating for a moment or two as the electric shocks traveled through her.

Buffy laughed despite herself. "I missed you too. It's… it's really good to be home." And she surprised herself by meaning it.

The knock that interrupted Buffy's train of thought was quiet and hesitant. She turned around and pulled the door open with a look of curiosity on her face. Most of the people who ever wanted to talk to her or see her pounded on her door – either from excitement, fear, or fury. Quiet knocks meant… well, she wasn't sure what a quiet knock meant. Until the door was open and she was staring at two of the faces she had once known best in all the world. A little more tired, a few fine lines spidering across the corners of their eyes, but still recognizable despite the time that had passed. Quiet knocks meant Willow and Xander had finally come to visit.

"Buffy," Willow's voice had that soft, beseeching tone Buffy found herself associating with big plates full of cookies, even after all this time. She shook her head numbly. She couldn't deal with this. Couldn't handle any more drama. She'd left Hollywood to get away from drama. To sober up. To go back to the way things were. Willow and Xander on her doorstep, that meant more change. That meant… that meant she couldn't go back. Couldn't avoid change. Couldn't take back her mistakes or undo what she had done.

She had drunk human blood.

"On no, I can't do this." She kept shaking her head, her hands suddenly scrambling for the door, hoping she could close it before her brain could process any more of this mess.

"Buffy, please? We need to talk." Xander's voice was soft too. Her eyes closed despite themselves, hearing somewhere in the depths of her soul that same tone exonerating her of the small evils she had worried over when she had been younger and human.

"I don't want to," she replied shortly. Still shaking her head. Denying reality. Denying this.

She had sunk her fangs into human flesh.

"Please? Buffy, we're so sorry. We had no idea…" Willow's eyes shone with tears. Dimly, Buffy wondered why Willow would want to cry.

"We just… we needed to see you. We… we didn't know, ok? If we had known…."

"You never asked," Buffy's voice sounded foreign to her ears. "You never tried to contact me. You never accepted my phone calls. You must have never read my letters."

Guilty looks were exchanged on her doorstep. "We thought you had attacked Giles…"

"I would _never_ attack Giles!" Her denial was fierce, but in her mind it coupled with the taste of warm, life-giving blood slipping across her tongue to make her wonder.

"And that's why we're here. Buffy, if we had known you still had a soul…" Willow's pleading eyes blinked rapidly, tears slipping from their corners as she sniffled. "I didn't think this was going to be so hard," she murmured softly, scrambling in a pocket for a tissue.

"We just want your forgiveness," Xander interjected.

She could have killed. It would have been easy. In her mind she had traced the fasted, simplest way to kill the man in her arms. Then she had found herself thinking of the most horrifying and painful ways she could kill him. She had pulled herself away from his neck with a throaty moan.

They wanted her forgiveness. The forgiveness of a monster.

She laughed in their faces and slammed the door. She had strolled past Rebecca without a glance. A quick glance would have revealed a mix of surprise and pride that would only have confused her more.

The electric demon watched her stroll through to the kitchen, pausing to shrug into a short black leather jacket that hung by the back door, where it had waited for the last few months. "I'm going hunting," Buffy called out, a manic quality to her voice as she slipped out the back.

Rebecca stared hard at the front door. She walked towards it and opened it. "You've come at a very difficult time," she murmured with a song-like trill to the surprised humans. "She is still trying to figure out her true nature. Hollywood doesn't make that any easier on a person."

"Umm…" Xander hummed lowly. "Why are you…"

"Talking to you?" Rebecca finished crisply, her tone buzzing in a dark vibratto, "Don't worry, I'm asking myself the same question."


	8. Sometimes Wanna Die

**A Future Awry**

I know this chapter is a bit short, but the next one should be up shortly to make up for it!

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Spike or any part of what has come to be known as the Whedon-verse. Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own it. No one said I can't play with it though.

The chapter title "Sometimes Wanna Die" and any included lyrics are borrowed from the song by Joydrop by the same name.

**Chapter Eight: Sometimes Wanna Die**

The two humans sat awkwardly on the couch, mugs of hot chocolate that somehow reminded them on some level of the hot chocolate Buffy's mother used to make rested on their knees as they stared around the room with wary glances. "Maybe we should just go…" Willow began suddenly, only to fall silent at a look from Rebecca's glowing eyes.

"Not before you understand that just because you're finally ready to see Buffy, doesn't mean she has to be ready to see you." The demon sat on the armchair in the corner, a mug of something cradled in her black hands, electric sparks flashing across her skin.

"Why wouldn't she be?" Xander said finally, his single eye staring intently at the demon in the hopes of understanding her point. "We're her best friends."

"You were her best friends." The demon took a patient sip from her mug. "Then you abandoned her."

"We thought she attacked Giles!" Willow exclaimed, "How were we…"

"You abandoned her before that." Rebecca stared at the witch with a level gaze. Willow had more power in her pinky than Rebecca could summon in a year, but for Buffy's sake, someone had to say something.

"What?" the pair sputtered in unison.

"You left her alone in a small town. Do you have any idea how isolated she was? How alone? She had spent years being the Slayer. The one and only, and suddenly it was all different. And she had no one to lean on." She set her mug down onto the table with slow movements, so not to startle the humans. "In some ways, you're lucky that all she did was find my stone. She could have found death. Found a vampire who overpowered her and caused her to lose her soul. Found the loneliness too much to bear."

The two humans sat in silence. Obviously they had never considered what might have led to this sequence of events.

"You mean," Willow began slowly, "That on some level, it might be our fault that all this happened?"

Rebecca smiled a small, sad smile, "And that is just one reason she's not ready to see you."

The pair on the couch suddenly looked very glum.

* * *

Buffy strode through the night without hesitation. She didn't have any particular direction in mind, but the heels of her leather boots were making a satisfying clipped drumbeat against the pavement, and the sound of her movement alone was soothing.

Why had her one-time friends chosen now to come back? She had been fine without them for so long. She had learned to deal without their presence in her life; learned to accept that they would not change their minds. She had made peace with that. And now… now, when she finally had done the unforgivable and become all the things that they hadn't wanted to see in her… now they wanted to come back into her life. Just in time to witness how right they had been in the first place.

Buffy felt her lower lip quiver, and bit down on it hastily to keep it still. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She felt frustrated and terrified and angry and sorrowful. And beneath the swirling emotions lay the empty greyness she hadn't succumbed to since those few disastrous months after Willow had brought her back from Heaven. Perhaps that was what terrified her most. Because if she stopped caring, stopped feeling, what would there be left to stop her from biting someone else? What would keep her from actually attacking people? From lapping the still warm blood from their broken and bloody necks.

A horrified shiver ran down her spine. At least in part because she _wanted_ it. The bloodlust she had learned to control just after the change was a hundred times worse now that she had actually tasted human blood. To know what she had been missing out on. And it wasn't just the blood she longed for – it was the violence. The sick and twisted dance with death.

Her mouth dry, Buffy broke into a run. She knew now how Spike had felt. What he had tried to tell her then – the love of the dance, of the fight. At the time she had felt nothing but revulsion. She had never dreamed just how difficult it was to control the demon. And Spike had managed it without a soul.

Buildings passed by her in a blur and in moments, Buffy was in the town's cemetery. She slowed back to a walk, trying to let the familiar scenery sooth her. It failed. Epically.

Instead, her mind was bombarded with ever more images of fights and violence; of love and sex; of vampires and demons. And of Spike. There through it all. Right up until the moments when she could have finally really needed him. Could have understood him. And now it was too late again. Too many fresh wounds had been laid down on top of scar tissue that had never healed properly in the first place. Deep down, Buffy knew that there was nothing left for her with Spike. She would be better off letting it go. Move on with her unlife and forget. Better to try to pull the fragments of Buffy back together and become something that at least passed for whole.

Buffy clenched her fists and stood very still, trying to relax herself. Her face wore the mask of the demon, and she knew that until she calmed her racing emotions, she wouldn't be able to shake it off. Not in a place like this, where every breaking twig set off the instincts she had spent so many years honing as a human.

_Click._ The sound echoed through the cemetery and Buffy felt her spine stiffen in response. She spun towards the direction of the sound, golden eyes flashing in the darkness, catching the play of moonlight and shadow that suggested movement. _Click_. The sound repeated, as this time a decidedly clumsy movement set the branches of a large shrub waving. Buffy felt a predatory growl rumble through her chest as she stalked slowly towards the trembling bush.

_Click_. The sound of the camera shutters working sparked along Buffy's nerve-endings and with a flash of inhuman speed, her hand was wrapped around the neck of the photographer buried in the bush. She lifted him out with little regard for the scratches he endured thanks to her rough handling.

"What do you think you're doing?" she hissed awkwardly around her fangs, which had descended in her blinding fury.

"Miss… Miss Summers?" the photographer stuttered. "It's… please.. it's just my job. Paparazzi and all that." He was shaking in her grip, gasping against the pressure of her hand against his throat.

"Maybe you should find a new one."

Her voice sounded foreign to her ears. Cold and rough, though filled with an evil sort of sensuality. All Buffy could focus on though, was how lovely the rush of blood in his neck felt against her hand. How much lovelier it would feel running down her throat. Her grip tightened slightly, leaving the photographer gasping, clawing helplessly at her tightened hand. "Please," he choked out.

"Shut up," she murmured, her eyes locked into his. She felt her gaze waver, slipping down to the neck she held so tightly in her grasp. She let the man go lightly, her hand still resting against his skin, fingertips grazing the pulsing veins.

"I…I…" he stuttered in response, his eyes wide with terror. They looked more like the eyes of an animal than a human.

Buffy leaned in, licking her lips every so slightly. In a moment that stretched into eternity, she slid her fangs into his yielding skin. He whimpered beneath her mouth and she shivered with the delight of it. His hot blood spilled into her mouth and the taste… the fear… she sighed contentedly against the man's skin.

Senses blind to all but the blood on her lips, Buffy did not see the figure extract himself from the shadows of the cemetery. She didn't hear the figure walk up behind her. Didn't expect the blow to her head that sent her crumbling to the ground.

"Run." The figure told the photographer, his voice heavy with emotion as his eyes remained glued to the crumpled vampire at his feet.


	9. Bad Romance

**A Future Awry**

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Spike or any part of what has come to be known as the Whedon-verse. Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own it. No one said I can't play with it though.

The chapter title "Bad Romance" and any included lyrics are borrowed from the song by Lady Gaga by the same name.

**Chapter Nine: Bad Romance**

Spike sat quietly in the hotel room, his eyes locked on the honey-blonde vampire that lay sprawled across the bed. In one hand he held a glass full of ice, half emptied of bourbon. Carelessly, he tossed back the rest of the liquid contents. "Blood hell, Slayer," he muttered softly. He closed his eyes, leaning back in the poorly-upholstered armchair. He'd known from the moment that the red-head said she'd done a runner, that Buffy was in bad shape. How couldn't she be? First time a vampire drank from a living human was a powerful experience. Having gone years without it, she was obviously feeling the effects of both the guilt from her soul, and her sublimated bloodlust making itself known.

Still, finding her attacking some helpless photographer in a cemetery had not been even close to what he had expected.

A small, strangled sound coming from the bed had Spike's eyes flying open. He watched Buffy as she shifted, curling into a ball around herself. The sound of sniffles came quickly after. Spike leaned forward, eyes intent. As far as he could tell, she was still asleep. Was crying in her sleep. His heart felt torn. But then again, he wasn't surprised. She'd always had the ability to rip his heart out.

He stood up slowly, covered the few steps to the bed in an instant, and settled down on the side nearest the chair. With a hand that he would have vehemently denied was shaking, he stroked the few loose strands of hair that had fallen across Buffy's face. He leaned closer in, letting his fingers trace the paths of the tears that had slipped through her closed eyelids from her chin back up to her eyes. A wave of longing swept over him suddenly, and he wished he could take it all back. Every year he'd been without her. He'd take them back, lay himself at her feet, beg for her forgiveness. So long as she would let him stay by her side.

But he would never tell her this out loud. She'd laugh scornfully. It was just her nature.

His eyes widened as she moved beneath his caress. A choked sob escaped her as her body writhed, as if in pain. He could sense the awareness creeping back into her system, but he sat frozen. He wanted to move away, back to the chair, back to the comfort of distance from her intoxicating presence, but how could he when she was already looking up at him with those terrible green eyes?

"Spike?" her voice was little more than a whisper. A look of confusion settled across her features. "Did I… was it… was I dreaming?" She touched her head gingerly as she slowly sat up. "I must have gotten hit pretty hard." She smiled weakly at him. "I mean, I feel like… it was like this whole other life…" He felt her eyes sweep across him. His hair was still bleached, but he was in vastly more current clothing. The black leather duster that lay across the arm of the chair was not the one he had been so attached to. And she would know she was a vampire.

"Oh," he felt her unnecessary exhalation of breath. He watched her eyes glance warily around the room, letting memories reorganize themselves in her head. He watched her nibble on her lower lip. Watched her eyes widen briefly before closing. Watched her fall back onto the bed, grasping the coverlet beneath her hands with tight-gripped urgency as she attempted to hide herself from the world.

"I didn't… god… please tell me I didn't?" Her voice was muffled beneath the bedding she had pulled over top of her, but he knew it had all fallen back into place.

"He's fine," he said dryly, letting the silence settle across the room.

A slight movement in the bedding had her peering back up at him. "You stopped me?" It was a question, her earnest eyes gazing up at him in a mixture of confusion and longing, though whether it was for what he had to tell her or for him, Spike couldn't guess.

"Had to," he replied stiffly, "Saw the state you were in 'cause of biting that wanker in Hollywood… couldn't very well let you make things worse."

He watched her shiver. "You know?" she whispered, her gaze falling from his to the floral pattern of the coverlet. Her voice was tinged with shame and fear.

"Way he was yelling 'bout it on your front lawn, wouldn't be surprised if all of Hollywood knows." He wanted to be nice to her. Somehow he couldn't be. Wasn't in either of their natures, he supposed.

The silence hung thickly in the room. "Why are you here?" she asked finally, her voice sounding smaller than he had ever heard it.

A dozen callous answers lay on his tongue, and each of them sat too heavily to be spoken. He gazed down at her tousled hair, her red-stained lips, her glowing green eyes, and only the truth would do. Even if it tore his heart to shreds. Even if he didn't think he could survive another rejection at the hands of Buffy Summers. "Because I love you," his voice sounded muffled and husky to his ears.

He watched her eyes widen. Watched her turn away from his gaze. Felt his heart splinter yet again. How masochistic was he? To once again throw his love at her mercy?

"Then why didn't you tell me that you were alive?" Buffy's voice was small in the confines of the room, and it was making his heart ache. Buffy Summers wasn't supposed to whimper and hide herself in a cheap hotel room. She was supposed to burn with righteousness and spark with violence. He'd rather take a punch to the nose than this brokenness.

Spike swallowed heavily. "Didn't think you'd want me around, muckin' things up." He paused, "Then we just didn't know what had happened to you. No one told us anything. We just assumed…"

"That I was fine?" her head was still bowed away from him, though he could hear the tears in her voice. A hollow-sounding laugh wracked her tiny frame. "And instead, you find me acting," her voice cracked, "Like the fledges we used to dust without a second thought." She lifted her head then, her green eyes looking grey with dispassion.

"Buffy," he heard himself murmur, "It's fine. It's…"

"Bloodlust," she finished for him. "Yeah, right. Bloodlust isn't what's driving me crazy. Isn't what…. Isn't what has me picturing how to kill. Imaging how to torture. How to drag out someone's agony."

Spike blinked. "Buffy, love," he said softly, "That's exactly what bloodlust _is_. It's not just about the blood – it's the violence, the power. You're no longer bound by the rules. And your demon knows that, fights against you for that."

She stared back at him dully. "But then how did you manage it?" Her voice was little more than a whisper, "How did you control it? It seemed… it never seemed _this_ hard."

Spike swallowed hard, standing up and walking away from the bed, his hands clenching into fists. "You thought it was _easy_ for me?" His voice barely sounded like his own. He laughed hollowly. "Oh, pet, you have no idea." He struggled to keep his temper in check, but every moment of his history with her was bubbling to the surface. Every moment he had restrained himself, every second he had spent keeping himself under control. Those bleak weeks when he had believed he couldn't hurt anything. Living without the violence. Feeling helpless. And she had thought it was _easy__**.**_

"And what then?" he continued, "Any time I slipped in any way, you just thought I was what? Weak?" He spun on his heel, his eyes flashing dangerously golden. "All those years of your prissy righteous act, and now that you actually have to live with it, all you can do is whine?"

She sat up, still half-covered in the twisted coverlet. "Oh, so after years of silence, now you come back just to _lecture_ me on what a bitch I was?" She lifted her arms, pulling the coverlet away from her body. "What were you even doing here? Following me, just waiting for me to slip up? Waiting for the moment when you could find me feeling awful enough to loose control and sink my fangs into whoever was dumb enough to cross my path?" Her eyes were sparking with gold now, her vampiric visage slipping through. "Tell me, Spike," she spat, "What part of playing the hero do you like best? The attention or the fact that you can now rub it in my face?"

He glared at her, feeling his own control melting away under her yellow gaze, and the apparent struggle on her face to keep the bumpies at bay. "Tell me then, Slayer," he replied roughly, "Just why is everything always about you?" He smirked, "Are we finally getting to the heart of it? You just like being the centre of attention, don't you? First the righteous Slayer, surrounded by brooding lovers and your brave little friends, and when that ran out, you went and found yourself a place in Hollywood. Cause if you can't save the world, you might as well be at the centre of it, right?"

She was shaking with anger now, her body visibly trembling with the frustration she felt. Her blood felt oddly hot in her veins as she lithely unwrapped herself from where she sat on the bed. "Oh of course," she chirped in a false perkiness, "I'm the attention-whore. Please ignore that little Spikey has been running all over Hollywood himself, with his pretty face all over the covers of the tabloids. And who's that on the cover with him? Oh, it's the skank-of-the-week. Guess I'm not the only one who likes a little attention."

He growled then. "Just what do you think you know, Slayer?" They were both beyond control now, their human guises slipping away until they stood vampire-to-vampire, golden gazes locked and literally shaking with fury.

"I know you don't actually love me," she hissed.

Which was literally the final straw, because how could she stand there, golden eyes flashing and fangs down, commanding him with all her fury and fire and not expect him to be effected? Spike did the only thing he could, and he grabbed her wrist. Pulling her tightly to him in one swift movement, he attacked her mouth with the desire of years of hopeless longing. He pulled her body so close to his that he could feel her squirm in surprise against him, and it only served to fuel his hunger for her.

Her mouth tasted like blood, and the dangerous duel of their tongues and teeth was nicking both of their lips, adding fresh blood into the mix. He pushed against her, backing her up towards the bed. Years without her were working against him. The need to explore her body, to see the differences that being a vampire had wrought across her skin, was burning him alive. Dimly, he found himself wondering how she could still burn him, when her skin was no longer warmer than his own.

He ripped his mouth away from hers with another growl. He stared down at her possessively. He wanted her. Wanted to never let her leave his side again. She gazed back at him, her expression dazed. He watched her pink tongue flick outwards, licking the blood from her lips. "Don't love you?" he echoed her words in a deep rumble, "Summers, I'm bloody _drowning_ in you."

The look in her eyes was one of deep recognition, and for a moment, he could have sworn that she really, honestly, saw him. For perhaps the first time, she saw him entirely, no matter that it had taken her years and becoming a vampire to do it.

"Spike," she whispered softly, her vampire face fading from her features. She reached one tentative hand towards him, running her palm down the side of his face, her fingers running over his cheekbones. He let himself close his eyes in response, his own gameface slipping away.

The punch to the nose wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting.

"Bloody hell, Slayer," he yelled, lifting a hand to his nose, where blood dripped slowly down. "What the…"

"You deserved it," she replied succinctly, "For not telling me you were alive." She then stepped closer to him, invading his space and pulling his hands down towards her. She licked her lips and leaned up towards him. For a moment, Spike thought she was going to kiss him, and let his eyelids sink closed again, even though that had already proven itself to be a bad idea.

The light touch of her tongue against his face froze him in place. She was licking the blood away from his features, a satisfied hum echoing through her body, whether she knew it or not. "Buffy," he whispered, not quite willing to let her know just what she was doing to him, "What are you…"

She pulled away slightly, self-consciously running her fingertips over the corners of her mouth. She smiled up at him coquettishly, "You taste good," she whispered, licking her fingertips slowly.

Spike groaned quietly against her, grabbing hold of her and forcibly pushing her onto the bed. "You'll be the death of me," he murmured into her ear as she writhed against him, clothes losing themselves almost of their own accord.

"I hope not," she murmured in reply, "seeing as how we're both already dead."

He wondered if it was insanity or just the demon that found the fact that Buffy Summers was a vampire incredibly arousing. In either case, he lost no time in expressing his feelings on the matter.


	10. Colorado Sunrise

**A Future Awry**

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or Spike or any part of what has come to be known as the Whedon-verse. Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own it. No one said I can't play with it though.

The chapter title "Colorado Sunrise" and any included lyrics are borrowed from the song by 3Oh!3 by the same name.

_This is the last chapter… it's a little short, but I like to think its short and sweet. I might consider adding a sequel if people want one – but not until I've finished my other two BtVS fics. And that might take a little while. In the meantime, I hope you've all enjoyed this story! Please let me know what you thought…_

**Chapter Ten: Colorado Sunrise**

The sky was growing lighter. The blackness of night melted into dark blue as the stars dimmed and began to fade from the sky above the old hotel. With a view of the small town below, a single sliding door opened. White curtains blew softly inward, as a single, slim figure emerged. A pale face looked desolately up into the heavens and a single tear traced its path down a pale cheek.

The vampire tightened the hotel bathrobe she wore around her form as her ears picked up the sounds of movement in the room behind her. She didn't move her gaze from the far off point among the stars she had focused upon. The point where horizon met sky. The point that was the lightest blue. She sensed the presence of another behind her, but stayed motionless as he stepped through the doorway.

"Love," his rough voice washed over her in a tender tone, as his arms wrapped around her body and pulled her close. She could feel him bury his face in her hair, inhaling her scent as if his existence depended on it.

"I miss the sun," she whispered softly as she leaned back into the comfort of his body, the simple statement conveying so much more than the longing for daylight on her skin.

His only response was to tighten his arms around her.

They stood for a long moment as the sky continued its transformation from black to blue, the eastern horizon growing ever lighter. "How," her voice broke as she interrupted the stillness of the waning night. "How can you still want me?" The words were little more than a mournful sigh. At first, she wasn't certain he had heard her. Only the hard jerk of his jaw muscles tightening against her skin suggested otherwise.

"Why do you do this?" his voice was a frustrated hiss by her ear. "Every time…" she could hear the restrained anger in his voice, "Every time you have to face your own darkness you go and think you're the baddest thing to walk the bloody earth. You bit a human or two, so what? Any idea how many _deaths_ I've got on my soul?" His low voice contained a trace of a growl. "No matter what you do, Summers, you will _never _be a monster. 'Cause if you were, there would never be a drop of hope for me."

She stared at the horizon line. "How do you keep going?" she murmured back. "Every day… for so many days. For so long." She paused, "Don't you get tired?" At that, he pulled her around to face him. She hadn't noticed it before, but he looked _different_ from how he had in Sunnydale. Something in his eyes, or his aura, or just his presence had altered somehow. Lost some part of the spark that had made Spike _Spike_.

"Yes," he said finally. "If you want it," his eyes glanced behind her, the pale eastern sky reflecting in his eyes, "I'd gladly stand here with you 'til the sun comes out." His eyes fell back to hers, a haunted look in their depths, "If you wanted it, Buffy."

For an instant, she felt as if she had been propelled backwards in time. She was sitting on a couch in a house that no longer existed, those same haunted blue, blue eyes staring back at her. She longed for the peace of death. She couldn't bear the brightness, the motion, the pain of living. And those eyes could see it, could feel it, could _understand_ it.

They understood it better now.

"Spike," she whispered, a hand lifting of its own accord, tracing the contours of his face. She watched him bury his face into her palm. They had so much pain between them. But they were here now, with his arms around her, and her hands touching his bare skin. "Will you stay with me?" Her words were soft and calm, a sudden acceptance filling her hollow soul.

His eyes flew open at that. "Until the end.," he murmured against her skin, his lips trailing kisses down her palm to her wrist, his eyes never leaving her own.

"Promise?" she breathed.

"I'll never leave your side again, Slayer," he whispered softly.

"I'm not a Slayer anymore," she said softly, a small smile on her lips as she shook her head. She pulled away from him slowly, her smile growing as she watched the seriousness of his expression. She hadn't seen this look on him anywhere near enough – too often it was all sarcasm and snark and hurt and anger. She took his hand and tugged on it lightly. "Let's go back to bed," she let the words hang in the air between them for a long moment.

His eyes lit up, the weariness fading from them as they drank in her smile and her words. He followed her back into the room without a word. She didn't look back at the slow-rising sun. The heavy day curtains were shut tightly against the morning.

Even life could be faced, so long as she knew she didn't have to do it alone.


End file.
